


Invitations and Interpretations

by hearts_kun



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Manipulation, Pre-Dark Continent Arc, Sexual Tension, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_kun/pseuds/hearts_kun
Summary: Pariston comes to Cheadle's office with a clear intention to annoy her for his own amusement yet again. However, something goes wrong... or, possibly, something finally goes right.
Relationships: Pariston Hill/Cheadle Yorkshire
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Invitations and Interpretations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callofchaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callofchaos/gifts).



There’s a lot of papers on her desk. All neatly organized by groups. Her pens are sorted by color. Her gloves are neatly folded and put away but just close enough to grab them when he enters the room and continue working. She is the embodiment of order.

Pariston is not. His ways are rat-like and chaotic even now, when is not longer one of the Zodiacs. His steps are small and quiet, and his nose is a little up in the air, sniffing the atmosphere out.

Cheadle doesn’t look up from her papers even when he sits in front of her. She is loyal to her mission and hates being distracted.

That alone is such a pure quality for someone as secretly dirty as Cheadle that it makes Pariston squint with pleasure. He _wants_ to irritate her.

“You don’t work here anymore,” she says just when he opens his mouth to greet her. “Go away.”

He doesn’t pretend to be offended. He closes his eyes and waits in silence. Sometimes papers rustle, being moved across the table. Sometimes the scribbling of the pen is heard. Among these sounds, her teeth don’t screech. She is stoic.

She finishes at exactly nine in the evening. The sky outside is so dark, it’s almost black, but the lights of the city make the scenery bright. It’s delightful, taking a cab home and watching all the shiny ads out of the car windows.

Cheadle collects everything she needs in a nice neat briefcase and stops at the doorstep, not even turning back to look him in the eye.

“Pariston, I’m leaving. The building is closing for the night. You know well enough.”

He looks at the clock.

“Indeed, it’s late. I should make you company then.”

Cheadle groans quietly but doesn’t say “no”. Not because she agrees, but rather because she knows Pariston will not listen. He is persistent. He pretends to be polite when he isn’t. She probably sees him as an annoying pest poisoning her life. She probably feels bad for him, too.

As expected, Cheadle calls a cab. She doesn’t close the door after she gets in. Pariston stands on the sidewalk for a moment, a little frozen.

“Get in. You’re invited,” she says.

Pariston feels excitement fill him when he steps inside the car. Not just annoyance and pity… Cheadle is no stranger to _want_ too.

They’re at her place in less than half an hour. It is small, personal, and neatly organized, just like her office. Nothing like Pariston’s clean empty rooms with grand schemes plastered to the walls. He rarely happens to be at Cheadle’s. It feels bright and warm here.

Cheadle takes off her dog accessories and accurately puts them on a designated shelf in the hall. It’s weird, seeing her as a normal human. He used to laugh at this entire masquerade, but he almost appreciates it now.

Pariston takes off his shoes and follows her to the bedroom. She has him sit on the edge of her bed while she’s standing in front of him, breathing so calmly on her own territory.

“I know you are not really coming there to meet me. You should stop.”

She looks less like a strict doctor that she always is, but more like a well-balanced fighter, uncomfortably comfortable around Pariston. He feels slight shiver go down his spine, but not from fear — from something else.

“Well,” he considers, “should I come here then?”

Cheadle lightly grimaces at the implication, then shrugs. Pariston holds a breath. He is meeting so little resistance today, it feels like she is trying to manipulate him. It makes him bite his lip to keep the smirk in. It almost makes him furious. And excited.

“I might just follow the invitation if you say so,” he adds in hopes to provoke her, but Cheadle simply comes closer and sits near him.

They sit in silence for a moment. Then, she takes off her working robe and massive hat, carefully putting them aside into the closet. There is a shirt and underwear on her, and just looking at her gives Pariston a feeling of proximity. He smiles.

She comes closer again and places herself on his lap. Her gaze is intent. Almost like she wants to read his thoughts even now, when they’re about to have some simple old fun. _Such a smart, dedicated girl_ , Pariston thinks, and it tickles his mind. He wants more of these games, but at the same time her attempts to play almost make him angry. It is such a weird, conflicting feeling. New.

Cheadle pushes him onto the mattress and unbuttons his shirt. Her hands are soft and precise. Pariston doesn’t dare move under her touches, taking it all in, the pure sensation. His breath quickly becomes shallow. For a moment, games and play go away to the background. Especially so when these soft warm hands first run down his bare skin. Then again, and again. So painfully, painfully low, but not there yet… Pariston takes a deep breath, preparing to respond to the tease, but that’s when the hands stop and suddenly caress his cheek instead.

“You may come once a week, if you want,” Cheadle finally says something in a quiet but intense whisper so close to his ear.

He doesn’t respond, only grits his teeth.

As Cheadle’s hand continues moving down again, he can barely hear her chuckle. It promises to be a good deal.


End file.
